


without pain and sacrifice, we would have nothing

by zero_point



Series: the visitor suffers [2]
Category: Fortnite (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Graphic Violence, Lowercase, Non-consensual Amputation, Not Canon Compliant, Physical Abuse, Robot Feels, Robots, THE VISITOR SUFFERS PART TWO ELECTRIC BOOGALOO, Whump, no beta we die liek men, robot abuse, robot whump, the paradigm is an asshole, the violence has no blood or gore because y'know. robot., the visitor is a robot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zero_point/pseuds/zero_point
Summary: the paradigm finds another reason to fuck with the visitor.(or: the visitor continues to realize fear and pain are the worst fucking combination.)
Series: the visitor suffers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984379
Kudos: 2





	without pain and sacrifice, we would have nothing

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone has a better quote about pain or emotion that's not tumblr deep for the title, i'll gladly welcome it with an open arm.

the paradigm flicked a little piece of folded foil towards the visitor; it hit him squarely in the head, then fell to the floor. she let out a little bored, frustrated sigh and picked another up from the pile on the table beside her.

“i was _so_ much better at this when i was younger.” she flicked another piece towards the visitor. it fluttered through the air, to the visitor slumped against the wall a few feet away, and over the goalpost the robot had made with his fingers. she made a triumphant sound, picking another one up. “it’s hard to aim down, but you have to get _just_ the right angle..” 

the paradigm’s voice only grew more and more grating as the days passed. who was she even talking to? the scientist was across the warehouse, too involved in his work on the mission to respond, and the visitor knew she’d find some excuse to hurt him if he spoke up.

she liked to hear her own voice, he guessed. just _another_ instrument of her torture.

the paradigm was taking her turn ‘keeping watch.’ the visitor knew that was bullshit- the paradigm had made it clear that any escape attempts would be punished harshly. two of his fingers had been broken the last time he tried to call for help. he wasn’t going to try again.

“nobody knows you’re here,” she’d crooned, caressing the side of his face while she bent his joints back _far_ past their limit, “nobody cares you’re suffering. you’re alone here, visitor.”

his fingers, the middle and ring ones on his right hand, still burned and ached from the snapped metal and bent wiring. that was the awful thing about being a non-organic life form, the visitor had to admit. their wounds healed. he was stuck feeling every piece of damage and pain that the paradigm had inflicted upon him.

he’d already given up on the idea that he’d see the sun again. he would have liked to have gone outside being able to feel physical sensations - feel the sun’s warm rays or the rain’s cool touch. but he’d squashed any of his hopes of doing so, knowing he’d likely only suffer more and more for the rest of his short life.

the scientist was kinder to him. whenever the paradigm went off to sleep or eat - she always told the scientist he was lucky he never needed to do so - he would take watch. he’d never hurt the visitor not since the paradigm had first taken him captive, at least. the visitor preferred not to know if it was because the scientist truly felt bad for him, or if it was because he had better things to do.

“i _saw_ that, you little shit.”

the visitor had tuned out her incessant chattering for the most part, though it was hard to ignore when she talked to him directly. he had barely noticed the foil piece missing the goal between his fingers. the cracks in his visor and the static lines crowding his vision didn’t help.

the visitor considered his options, for a moment. he’d be punished if he didn’t say anything. she would find an excuse to punish him if he did. it was easy to hurt something you saw as nothing more than a machine who only felt faux, simulated pain.

it took a moment for him to muster up the energy to reply. “y-y-y-yes?” he hadn’t been able to vocalize properly since the paradigm had first kicked him in the chest. the sound of that sickening crack haunted the visitor, and the intense pain still lingered in his chest and throat- it never got better, just got easier to get used to. _whatever engineer has to fix me up has their work cut out for them_ , he’d thought, wistfully, as if the paradigm would ever let him leave alive.

“you moved your hands.”

the visitor shifted his gaze to his hands. he’d locked the mechanisms for his joints to keep them in place - there was no way he could have moved. she was just looking for an excuse to fuck with him.

he could lie and say he did. the paradigm would hurt him. he could tell the truth, and she’d punish him for ‘lying.’ crack a joke, perhaps?

“you n-n-needed a chall-llenge.” the visitor tried to tilt his head to the side, though it only lolled over pathetically. Sharp pain rocked through the wires in his neck, a burning sensation crashing through from the machine he’d been hooked up to. a dull thudding in his head grew louder.

“ _oh,_ you are _so_ pathetic.” the paradigm laughed. her cackle alone made the visitor wince. “i don’t know _why_ they thought a machine would make a good replacement. can’t even take a punch without going out of service.”

the visitor’s status as _‘out of order’_ was certainly from more than _just a punch._ and he was hastily made as a replacement, not quite made to last. she should have tried to hit the scientist; that bastard could snap her neck with a single squeeze if he really wanted to.

“le-ess-ess room f-f-for error?” the visitor choked out, trying not to think about all the mistakes he’d made once he’d started to develop stubborn emotions like guilt and shame.

“you’re useless, you know? gods. an engineer with a flash drive could do your job for you better than you ever could.” the paradigm flicked another piece of foil at his head, rising to her feet. “i could do that now. once volta and i finish your rocket _for you_ -” she made it sound like she was doing him a favor “- i could pluck out the piece of you with all your mission details, set that rocket on autopilot-- would have to tell the higher-ups afterwards how _tragic_ it was to lose you. but we could preserve the mission anyways without much problem.”

maybe the first time the paradigm had told the visitor how pathetic and useless he was it had stung, but she hurled uncreative insults at him so often he couldn’t bring himself to care. her threats weren’t as empty, but.. the visitor was in so much pain, he would have welcomed death. he just knew if he told her that that she’d drag out his pathetic life as long as she could before leaving him out to rot, slowly, as each of his systems sputtered and died.

“you reall-ly think it’d be th-th-that easy?”

“i _know-_ ”

“they w-w-wouldn’t-t build me s-so h-h-hap-haphazardly that an-any c-c-c-cut-rate mech-anic like yourself could take m-me apart and steal th-the mission plans.”

the paradigm’s smug expression turned sour. her red eyes narrowed, and the corners of her lips twisted down into a tight frown. “you want to fucking try me, scrapheap?”

as she stepped towards him, that nauseating feeling the visitor hated came back. fear. he fucking hated that one. all he could do was try to feebly crawl away, though _that_ would get him in more trouble than he was already in.

maybe it hadn’t been good to insult the paradigm on one of the things she’d specialized in her entire life.

the paradigm opted for a swift kick to the torso - right where a stomach would have been - sending him to the floor. the visitor’s pain receptors lit up, sending an awful, vomit-inducing crack of pain up his chest and ‘throat.’ he brought his arms weakly down to protect himself, not that it would do much.

another kick hit him in the same place. “sto-” he gasped, barely even able to beg for mercy, “st-st-st-”

“oh, stop, huh?” another kick. the alarms in his head, yelling at him to seek maintenance immediately or face imminent shutdown, screamed louder. “stop pretending you actually feel anything. it’ll make it easier for the both of us.”

it sure fucking felt real.

the paradigm lifted her boot and pressed it against the visitor’s head. he whined feebly as she began to press down, looking down at him as if he was nothing more than a pesky insect beneath her foot.

“mara!” 

the visitor never thought he’d be so happy to hear the scientist’s voice.

“mara, _what_ are you doing?!” 

though even as his footsteps grew closer, the paradigm didn’t move her boot off of the visitor’s head. only when the scientist grabbed the paradigm’s arm and yanked her off of the visitor did she finally react.

“what do you think you’re-”

“you _cannot_ harm him like this.” the scientist held the paradigm’s wrist firmly in his hand. from where the visitor was lying, it looked like he seriously meant he was going to hurt her.

“you can’t tell me what to do, volta-” she tugged at her wrist, scrambling to get it free.

“we don’t _know_ if you truly are able to cut him out of the mission entirely. there must always be _seven_ of us.”

finally, he let go, and the paradigm quickly cradled her wrist to her chest, rubbing it gingerly. “don’t you _ever_ fucking touch me again. i _can_ and _will_ do the fucking same to you. _that-_ ” she pointed towards the visitor, “- piece of scrap metal is _worthless_. he won’t die unless i let him.”

the scientist looked past the paradigm to the visitor, the crosshair across his visor narrowing to the robot. “i know, but-”

“don’t tell me you’re getting soft. i know you’re both machines, but _look at him_ . he’s _nothing._ spare parts!”

“i am not getting soft.”

“then prove it to me. you- you should take off his arm. it’ll teach both of you a lesson about _talking back._ ”

“ _what?_ mara, that isn’t necessary-”

the visitor felt himself grow heavy. _no._ one of them had already been crushed. the pain never went away. it never faded. _nononono--_

“he doesn’t need both to function. rip his fucking arm off, volta. prove to me that you’re not getting soft for that _thing._ ”

“n-n-nono-no-n-”

the paradigm ignored the visitor’s weak mewls of protest. 

the scientist looked back to the paradigm, the red crosshair on his visor narrowing on her. “it’s unneeded cruelty. i won’t do your dirty work for you. if you want to jeopardize the mission because you get off on torturing that ‘ _thing’_ ? fine. but there will be _hell_ to pay afterwards if you are the reason for failure.”

relief washed over the visitor. one of the better feelings, he’d come to realize. he wanted to thank the scientist. because he was right, he _was_ important, and-

but all of his pain and terror came back the moment the paradigm looked at him with those cold, merciless eyes.

“pl-eeeaase.” he moved to push himself up off the ground-- maybe if he didn’t look so weak and pathetic she would give him mercy. if he could just stand, if he could talk to her like a normal person--

his arms gave out on him and he collapsed back onto the cold, hard floor.

“i know what i’m doing. i’m _not_ jeopardizing the mission.” the paradigm snapped, looking back at the scientist. “go back to your work if you feel misplaced pity for that fucking thing.”

there was a twinge of hope in the visitor’s chest, that the scientist wouldn’t let her do it. he had stopped her before, why wouldn’t he do it again?

as the scientist shrugged his shoulders, sighed, and began to walk away, the visitor realized he’d only stopped the paradigm before because she’d come just that close to breaking him. taking off his arm? It was like ripping the keys off a keyboard. it hurt.. but it wouldn’t kill him.

the paradigm turned back around, looking at him with careful contemplation. her gaze flicked between his arms. she then roughly shoved her boot against the visitor’s left shoulder.

“mercy--” the visitor managed to cry out a clear word, weakly moving his arms to grip her ankle.

“i hope you’re not a leftie.” she grabbed his wrist, prying it off her boot.

“please.” the visitor felt like his insides were twisting. he was hot- yet so cold. quivering with fear. every piece of his body told him to _run_ , but he was frozen in place by shock, the usually clear red images on his visor spasming uncontrollably.

even after all the pain the paradigm had put the visitor through, he continued to think that pleading was truly going to work. what was that word? for trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?

the paradigm started to pull on the visitor’s arm. she was strong. stronger than he had anticipated. he felt the wires at his shoulder snapping like tendons and _screamed_ , filling the room with the sound of his metallic, incoherent babbles of, _no, stop, please-_

oh, right.

_insanity._

before the paradigm had even ripped his arm from its socket, three messages appeared in front of the visitor. three messages he couldn’t have been happier and more relieved to see.

Se V3RE 5Y5T EM D4M 4GE

that was a given.

SE NS0R Y P ROCESS 0RS OVE RL0A D3 D

_no shit._

SHU77 ING DO WN T0 PR0T3CT V1TAL INF 0RM4T I0N……………….

relief.

all the visitor could do - all the visitor _wanted_ to do - was give out, letting the calm uncertainty of nothingness wash over him as his systems slowed to a stop.

it wasn’t death. but the visitor welcomed the painless darkness with an open arm all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! be sure to give kudos and maybe drop a comment if you enjoyed. <:


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